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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27895768">The End of All Things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennalore/pseuds/elennalore'>elennalore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath, Brotherly Love, Emotional, Gen, Heavy Angst, Inspired by Fanart, Post-War of Wrath, Silmarils, Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:02:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27895768</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennalore/pseuds/elennalore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, Maedhros and Maglor only have each other - until Maedhros runs away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maedhros | Maitimo &amp; Maglor | Makalaurë</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The End of All Things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is inspired by this wonderful fanart: <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/darklord/636507019894030336">After the War of Wrath and before the fiery chasm</a>. When I saw this piece of fanart, I just knew I had to write a story about it.</p>
<p>Please note that this fic has a trigger warning for potentially disturbing content (Maedhros’s suicide).</p>
<p>Ammë = mother (Q.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m glad you are here with me,” I whisper to my brother. “Here at the end of all things.”</p>
<p>We lie on the floor of an abandoned shack that has become our hideout, trying to get some sleep but it eludes us both. Maglor looks immaculate in the light of the Silmarils. We have laid them carefully on the floor, within easy reach. The precious gems hurt us too much while we were holding them, and even now the pain is not truly absent. I suppose it will never really go away, like it always tormented Morgoth, making him even more spiteful. But Maglor doesn’t need to know that now. He’ll learn it himself soon enough.</p>
<p>We are both exhausted. I can see it in my brother’s eyes as he watches me watching him. When we fled with the Silmarils, I thought the soldiers would shoot arrows at us, but I guess Eönwë stopped them. Still I wonder if it would have been best if they had finished us there and then. I suppose it’s either the Oath still at work, or perhaps just sheer Fëanorian stubbornness, but we are ready to defend the Silmarils against any intruders. I hope no one will follow us here, that would only lead to further bloodshed.</p>
<p>Yes, we have killed again. As soon as we got back to our hideout, Maglor silently changed back into his favourite clothes, putting his bloodstained shirt away in disgust. I can’t help thinking that I’ve become quite a talented killer nowadays because there seems to be no blood spattered on my clothes at all. Well, I’ve got the best teachers. I’ve seen Morgoth and his lieutenant make clean kills and messy kills, and I know which ones I prefer.</p>
<p>“This is not the end,” Maglor says in a low voice after a long pause. I realize that he is commenting on my previous words that I should have not spoken aloud. “Unless you are speaking of the Oath.”</p>
<p>My little brother looks so delicate and beautiful, his eyes emitting the same light as what the Silmarils are made of. For a moment I imagine that we are children again, bathing in the light of the Trees, lying side by side on my bed in Tirion.</p>
<p>The earth quakes, not the first time today, making the little shack tremble. Maglor huddles closer to me like he used to do as a child during a thunderstorm.</p>
<p>“The Valar are really angry,” I say at the same time as something drops from the ceiling. “I hate it when they are angry.”</p>
<p>“We should try to sleep,” Maglor says. “I can’t remember when I slept last time.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure if I can sleep,” I confess.</p>
<p>He asks if it’s because of the pain in my hand, and I lie to him: “Yes.”</p>
<p>“I can sing to you, to help you relax.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t move.” I don’t want him to go away, not yet.</p>
<p>Maglor doesn’t get his harp, but stays with me and begins humming a soft melody I recognize from our Valinor days. I can’t help it anymore; my eyes fill with tears.</p>
<p>“I remember that song. <i>Ammë</i> used to sing it to us when we couldn’t sleep.”</p>
<p>He pauses for a moment. “Would you sing along with me, Nelyo?”</p>
<p>And I sing although my voice is hoarse and impure compared to his. Until I can’t sing anymore because tears are streaming from my eyes. Maglor finishes the song for me, his hand gently stroking my arm while he sings. He doesn’t find my stump repulsive, not after the early days of my return from Angband.</p>
<p>There’s a loud crack from the door that makes us start, but it’s just another earthquake. My grip on my sword loosens, and Maglor breathes deeply.</p>
<p>“Let’s just try to get some sleep,” he says. “Tomorrow is another day, and then we can decide on our next move.”</p>
<p>He closes his eyes and soon his face softens as he succumbs to sleep. My darling little brother, the only one I have left. My stump lies against his wrist and I dare not to move. There’s a throbbing pain in my left hand as a constant reminder that I’m not better than Morgoth. I try to ignore it, for pain is not foreign to me. It’s not usually this hard.</p>
<p>I only realize that I have fallen asleep after all when I suddenly wake up. There’s a dim morning light outside, but black clouds are hanging low, hiding the sun; a common sight these desperate days. Our tiny shack is a different world, for it’s still illuminated by the Silmarils. The light of the Trees that our father has preserved – and for what purpose? If I knew the answer before, I must have forgotten it.</p>
<p>Maglor is still sleeping. His chest is rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath. He looks peaceful in a way I never can be again.</p>
<p>Suddenly the ground is trembling violently. It feels much worse than before. Maglor jerks awake, his eyes now wide with terror.</p>
<p>I quickly fasten my sword on my belt and then grab hold of the Silmaril despite the tearing pain it provokes. “We must go now, Maglor! It’s not safe here, this house is about to collapse!”</p>
<p>Maglor winces as he takes the other Silmaril in his hand. There’s so much I would have liked to say to him, but there is no time. I fear that the army of the West is on its way to claim the Silmarils back, and that soon there will be more killing. Maglor seems to have the same premonition, but he only takes his harp with him, leaving his sword in the shack as we hastily leave the shaky building behind. My brother knows how to choose his weapons wisely.</p>
<p>Outside it looks like the end of the world. All the trees have fallen down, black smoke from the fires fills the air and strange winds are blowing. The ground is moving under our feet. Once Maglor stumbles and falls, but he won’t let go of the Silmaril although I can see he is in pain. The Oath doesn’t let us to give them away, we both surely understand that by now.</p>
<p>But does Maglor understand what it really means?</p>
<p>Suddenly the despair that I have tried my best to evade finds me and overwhelms me. I am broken again like I was once before, in Angband, and the pain is as unbearable as it was back then. But this time, I see an escape.</p>
<p>I only need to act quickly.</p>
<p>And just then, like a sign from the Valar themselves, there is a great tumult and the restless earth is shaking once again. Maglor loses his balance, cries out and falls. I turn to look at him the last time. His hair is dishevelled and his beautiful white shirt is now covered in soot and mud. I love him.</p>
<p><i>Goodbye, dear brother.</i> I send my final thoughts into his mind without speaking, and from his horrified expression I see that he has heard them and grasped their meaning. But I have started running long before he manages to get back up.</p>
<p>There’s a huge chasm opened in the earth, like the whole Beleriand was dying. Fire rises from it, and strange flows of lava stream from it like someone had opened a portal to the depths of Angband. I run towards the chasm safe in the knowledge that if I don’t slow down, Maglor will never reach me in time. The Silmaril is still clutched in my hand, as it should be.</p>
<p>Then I’m on the edge of the chasm, already feeling the fierce heat of it, and a moment later I don’t feel the ground under my feet any more. And I’m falling.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As you might have recognized, Maedhros's words in the beginning of the story are a quote from The Lord of The Rings, The Return of the King, Book VI, chapter III Mount Doom. I couldn't resist putting Frodo's words in his mouth!</p>
<p>Thank you for reading! I must say that writing from Maedhros's POV was quite a cathartic experience.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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